Deceptive Warrior
A Saiyuki fan fiction by Iapetus
Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki.
Much thanks to D-chan for betaing this for me. ::hearts::
Wind. It was such a deceptive word. It suggested being nothing more than air traveling across the surface of the earth. Almost innocent.
Almost.
The moment the wind carried something other than air within its folds, the innocence blew away, and could not be found again. Any moment now where nothing was carried in the air, it was simply an attempt to cover up the former deeds. It was no longer blameless.
Of all the elements, Homura, the prince of war, respected and feared wind the most. It was shapeless, and could not be caught by man or demon. Even the gods had trouble with it, and he had grown to take a liking to those things that made Heaven's existence difficult. To him, it did not matter that he also had trouble with it. He lived with the knowledge that he could not best it, and therefore it was easier to live with.
He had no use worrying over things that he knew he could not change.
With his position had come great power, and great responsibility. Already blessed with the gifts born of the Emperor's own family, it had not taken him long to refine his skills to become the warrior that Heaven needed.
'Prince' was supposed to be an honorable title. But the prince of war, even if it were him or his predecessor, was looked down upon. They were unclean.
Filth.
He was cursed with the blood of his father, he became the scapegoat for his own family and people.
No, he reminded himself, I have no people.
The wind blew again as he looked out over the valley, bitter as it swirled around him and away in the opposite direction. Tiny water crystals, too fine for even his attentive eyes to distinguish amongst the dark night, bit into his face as he resisted the urge to wince. Despite the pattern on his cloak, he was not warm. Not even the embroidered fire could block the frigid temperatures of the dead of winter.
But he had to be here. His sovereignty over war and strife commanded him to.
All war, whether divinely started or by other means, was his to watch over. While sometimes he would be an important player in the battle, other times he was simply an observer. Like today, a day that looked like night by the stormy sky above him, but he knew in truth it was only afternoon.
There was no physical fighting right now, but he watched as the humans vainly battled the elements. Tents only meant for summer dotted the valley – quickly covered in the bitterly cold powder. Lighter than sand, it did not stay in one place but constantly moved, making it impossible to clear away. Men, many able and full of youth, hunched over like a figure beyond their years in an attempt to block the bitter wind. Many huddled together, forming a barrier against the relentless, "innocent" elements.
The gods were warm in Heaven, oblivious to this suffering.
An unhappy smile ghosted on his face. He could go back there any time he wanted to. The battle was not until later – he was not required to be here now. He could return before his limbs became so stiff with cold that he could not move. But in reality, it would take much more than the elements to freeze the fire in his veins up.
Even if he had come down to touch his mortality in a minute way, this could not kill him.
A particularly harsh gust blew across his face, and it felt like tiny needles were piercing his skin. He did not flinch or raise his hand to shield himself.
The wind would eventually win over him, and in his weakness he would return to Paradise. But in complete honesty, he saw the true victory in the troops below, battling against something they knew they could not defeat.
The wind was much more fierce an opponent than any physical being could be.
Inspired by the absolutely FREEZING weather my area is curently having. x.x It isn't the cold that really gets to you, but the wind.
Comments and criticisms appreciated.
-Iapetus